


If Only It Were Me

by MissHowdoyoudo



Series: Wish It Were Me [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves Friendship, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben and Klaus are the best siblings, Ben and Klaus swap, Dead Klaus Hargreeves, Dissociation, Gaslighting, Gen, Ghost Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves is dead but it's okay, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHowdoyoudo/pseuds/MissHowdoyoudo
Summary: Klaus dies at age seventeen saving Ben from himself. At first, he's relieved. Then he realizes that maybe he was a bit more important to the family than he originally thought.Or, my attempt at writing a Klaus and Ben swap because there's not enough of them and I wanted more.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Wish It Were Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852501
Comments: 157
Kudos: 788





	1. Relief Can Only Go So Far

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I know I have another WIP right now . . . but I wanted to do this one too. Updates for this will be sporadic rather than linear like AWN.  
> Shout out to Spicy_Cannoli_AKA_Lia for helping with brainstorming for this as well as giving me ideas that I now want in cannon lmao

Klaus was seventeen when he died.

It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounded, really. Just his usual, useless self in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

He just hoped that Ben wouldn't blame himself.

Okay, yes, Klaus knew it  _ looked _ bad, and he knew Ben would probably have a hard time with it since, you know, it technically  _ was _ his powers that got Klaus killed, but he'd move on. Of course he would. Klaus, Useless Number Four, that was usually too high, too stupid, too  _ annoying _ to do anything  _ good _ , really just did this to himself. Klaus is the one that got himself killed. It was a long time coming, really.

That's what dear old Reggie kept saying, at the very least.

Klaus hovered over his dead body, the puncture wounds from the Horror littering him grotesquely, but surprisingly he wasn't completely dismembered. In fact, as soon as the Horror had torn into him, they had abruptly stopped and went back into their little dimension while Ben had passed out.

At least Ben was okay.

That was the reason Klaus had gone in there to begin with. The Horror was out of control, and Klaus had tried to get inside to help his brother calm down, like he had done countless times before. Just him and Ben . . . and an interdimensional tentacle monster.

Talking didn't help--Ben couldn't hear him--so he had moved in closer, willing to take the risk. And, well . . . apparently his death was good for something. Klaus just bemoaned the fact that he'd forever have that one pimple on his nose for all time. Well, and the grisly reminder of how he died stamped across his chest.

Joy.

Now Klaus didn't know what to do. Did he just . . . wait until Ben woke up? Wait for someone to come in? Find a Bright Light to move into?

Clearly, he hadn't been as prepared as he thought running in. That's what a drug addled mind can do to you.

With a groan, Klaus plopped down next to his dead body, wishing for a cigarette that he could no longer use. Being dead already sucked.

"Klaus?" Luther's loud voice rang from the other side of the room, the door hesitantly opening to allow the larger boy inside. "Ben?"

And . . . yeah, okay, this wasn't good. As soon as Luther's eyes found Klaus's body, he was  _ running _ , full stop. Klaus was surprised he didn't crack the floor with how heavy his knees hit the ground.

"Klaus? Klaus!" Luther's broken-hearted shout almost made Klaus think that maybe the big guy cared. There was too much negative stacked against him, however, so . . .

Luther placed his fingers flush against Klaus's pale throat, searching for a pulse that wasn't there. Klaus sighed and reached out to pat the big guy's shoulder, only for his hands to phase through. "It's alright, buddy."

"No no no," Luther pressed harder, and Klaus winced. He'd have bruises from that (not that it mattered. He was dead).

"No no-- _ Ben _ ."

Ahh, there it was. Luther had enough respect not to shove Klaus aside in getting to the favorite brother (maybe that was a little harsh, but he was dead, so no one would know what he was thinking anymore anyways). Klaus, too, wanted to know how Ben was.

Luther scrambled for the other fallen brother, and visibly relaxed when he found a steady beat under his fingers. Klaus could have cried in relief.

"Well, guess I really can move on to the great beyond, eh?" Klaus stood and stretched, watching as Luther gathered his remains and held them close, tears falling down his face. Biting his lip, Klaus came closer to try and provide  _ any _ sort of comfort for his brother, not being able to do much except pretend.

He looped his arms around the other, careful not to touch and accidentally fall through, and held him. "It'll be alright. I did this to myself, buddy. And, hey, at least it was me and not somebody else. Like Ben. Gosh, can you believe what would have happened if Ben didn't make it? The family would be torn apart!"

Luther didn't respond, seeming to be completely lost on what to do next, just holding Klaus's body close and rocking back and forth, keeping a hand on Ben's leg to remind himself that the other was still there. This whole situation must have been terrifying for him, poor guy. Especially seeing a mangled corpse up close and personal.

"You should probably get rid of me before Ben wakes up," Klaus suggested. "He probably won't be very happy knowing he killed me."

Well, that was an understatement. More like he would be devastated that his nightmares had become real, that he had harmed one of his siblings. Klaus, to be exact. The one who didn't mind the gore and usually was the one to calm him after a mission.

Who would calm him now?

Klaus pursed his lips, lost in thought until Luther finally moved. Number One rolled his shoulders back, seeming to come to a decision, and rose to his feet. He didn't let go of Klaus's body, surprisingly, and instead hefted Ben up over one shoulder and carried his body like a broken china doll in the other, then moved for the doors.

Klaus followed behind, curious as to what he would do. He hoped he'd at least tell the others that he was dead after throwing him in a ditch to rot somewhere. He wasn't sure he could handle it if they were led to believe he ran away or something.

Reporters lined the streets outside already, vultures waiting for any scoop they could get their grubby hands on. Luther took the time to cover Klaus's body with a jacket, making him seem almost as though he were sleeping.

Ah, good old Luther. At least this time, Klaus actually felt touched at the small gesture. No need to show the world his messy corpse.

Reginald, in all of his bastard glory, stood next to their limo with straight shoulders and a proud air about him. As Luther pushed past the reporters with his brothers in his arms, Reginald took one look, sighed, then opened the door for him before he entered the vehicle himself. Klaus wanted to break that stupid monocle, not for the first time.

Luther gently laid Klaus’s body in first, Ben following after. Finally, he squeezed himself between them and brought Ben’s head into his lap to stroke his blood-soaked hair. He looked so  _ miserable _ , and Klaus wanted to reach out and . . . well, something.  _ Anything _ .

Being a ghost was gonna be boring, wasn’t it?

“Number One,” their father’s voice commanded attention, and, predictably, Luther sat up straighter and gave his full focus on the man. Klaus rolled his eyes. “Report.”

“Klaus . . . Number Four was left on lookout, while Number Six and I went inside. We parted ways so I could get to the hostages and he could wait until I rounded up all the criminals. Up until Six let out the Horror, things were going really well.” He glanced down at Klaus’s body.

“I assume that Four has passed?” Reginald asked, pulling out his notebook. And . . . wow, okay, way to make it sound as clinical and detached as possible.

Luther let out a shaky breath--bordering on a whimper--and nodded. “He was supposed to stay outside. But, he must have heard me shout for B-Six, or something, because he ran in and shoved past me into the room . . .” He bit his lip. “The room where the Horror was destroying everything. Six had lost control. I tried to stop him, Sir, I did. But Klaus was determined to get in there.”

Luther was slipping up. He looked heavily distraught.

“Hmm,” Reginald took some more notes. “And Number Six?”

Luther stumbled on his words. “I-I found them both, after the Horror went back inside Ben. Klaus . . . Klaus wasn’t . . .”

“Is Number Six stable?” Reginald asked. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about Klaus  _ at all _ . Which, Klaus  _ knew that _ . He  _ knew it _ . But to hear it confirmed like that . . . like he was nothing more than trash that’s easily thrown to the side, carelessly . . . it still hurt. Would the others react the same way?

He didn’t want to know.

“Y-Yeah,” Luther nodded. “Yes, Ben’s fine. He probably overtaxed himself, which is why he’s out cold.”

“Good.” Reginald left it at that, closing his notebook and leaning back in his chair. Luther wasn’t finished though, and Klaus winced. He just wanted his brother to let it go.

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we . . . What are we going to do about Klaus’s body?”

Luther winced right after the words left his mouth, and Klaus sighed. Ripping the band aid off had never worked for Number One.

Reginald didn’t hesitate. “We’ll have a funeral in a few days. In the meantime, we’ll gather the others and inform them of what happened.”

And that was that. If Klaus still had a heart, he’s sure it would be hurting. As it was, he just felt numb.

“You’re an asshole,” he seethed. “You’ve never cared about  _ any _ of us, have you! We’re just your toys, or-or lab rats! How long before it’s someone else, huh? You’re lucky, this time, since it was  _ worthless Klaus _ .  _ Useless Number Four _ . But if it was one of your treasured members? What if it was Number One?”

Reginald didn’t answer, and Klaus wanted to tear his hair out.  _ It pissed him off so much he wanted to scream _ .

He stopped himself, just before he gave in to the urge. Because that was how the other ghosts acted, wasn’t it? That was how they tortured him every single day. Wailing and screaming and demanding justice.

He really was one of them now.

They pulled up beside the giant gateway of the Academy, Reginald stepping out swiftly while Luther struggled in the back with his two brothers (one dead, one still unconscious). “Take Number Six to the infirmary. Grace will deal with Number Four.”

“Yes, sir,” Luther shuffled into the house behind Reginald like an obedient dog and it made Klaus sick. If he could call it that. Maybe it was the memory of feeling sick. Whatever.

Reginald opened the doors and strolled in first, and Klaus could hear his siblings further inside all clamoring to know what happened, if the mission went well, if everyone was alright. Beside him, Klaus heard Luther whimper and hold his broken body closer. If Klaus was honest with himself, he was kind of afraid of how his siblings would react. He hid behind Luther’s bigger frame to avoid it.

“Number Six will go to the infirmary,” Reginald said, without a hint of remorse. “Number One will be treated after. Number Four will be dealt with appropriately.”

“Wh-What does that mean?” Diego asked, flipping a knife between his fingers anxiously, his cursed stutter making an appearance. “Luther, why are you carrying both of them? Are they okay?”

“Number Two, you will help Number One in taking Number Six to the infirmary. Number One, you will take Number Four to Grace.” With that, Reginald walked from the room with dignified grace.  _ More like fled the scene _ . Klaus scoffed.

“L-Luther?” Diego’s eyes were locked on Klaus’s body, eyes wide.

“Klaus doesn’t look good . . .” Vanya whispered. “He’s really pale . . . His lips look blue . . .?”

“Is that  _ blood _ ?” Allison demanded.

Luther braced himself, and Klaus instinctively did the same. So did the others, it seemed. With bated breath, they waited for what would happen next.

Slowly, Luther opened his mouth to answer. It seemed to pain him to do so. Klaus shrunk down behind him.

“Klaus did a heroic act,” Luther settled on. “He saved Ben.”

“No,” Diego shook his head, face paling. “No,  _ you _ don’t get to say that--that! Th-Th-This is wr-wrong. You were  _ p-p-p-protecting them _ ! You--” He stopped and took in shaky gasps.

“What does he mean?” Allison glanced between the brothers, lip wobbling.

Klaus knew they already knew. They were denying it.

Luther didn’t hesitate longer, removing the jacket from Klaus’s form to show off the gruesome mess underneath. Allison gasped, hands coming up to cover her face, eyes peeking through manicured nails like from one of those dramas she loved so much. Diego froze in place, eyes roving over all the wounds, cataloguing them.

And Vanya, sweet, timid Vanya, broke into tears.

Klaus really wished that Luther hadn’t shown them. It would have been a mercy for them.

It really was an ugly sight.

“Get him to M-Mom,” Diego demanded.

“Diego--”

“No! G-Get him upstairs. M-M-Maybe Mom ca-can do something. W-W-W--” he let out a frustrated groan. “We can’t just give up on him! He’s not d--He’s not!”

Klaus kind of found it funny that Diego couldn’t finish the word. Morbidly funny.

“He is. I already checked.”

Ah, Luther. Gotta love him.

A knife flashed through the air, embedding into the wall beside Luther’s head and straight through Klaus’s. Klaus ducked further behind Luther, letting out an indignant squawk just as Diego shouted, “Then you d-didn’t try hard en-en-enough!”

Vanya dropped to her knees, curling in to avoid seeing the  _ gore _ that was Klaus. He wanted her to leave, so the sight wouldn’t haunt her nightmares. Poor Vanya didn’t deserve that.

“Boys!” Allison’s rough voice dragged everyone’s attention away from a growing fight. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she stood tall. “Diego, take care of Ben. Please. We don’t want . . . we can’t lose another one.”

Vanya let out a choked whine.

A muscle in Diego’s jaw twitched. He came forward, and Klaus thought that he would punch Luther out, but instead he ripped Ben from off of Luther’s shoulders and into his arms, then marched away in a flurry of anger. Vanya tumbled after him, much to Klaus’s relief.

Allison took a shaky breath, then turned to Luther. Her eyes lingered on Klaus’s body for a moment, before she shook her head sadly and tore her gaze away. “Go ahead, Luther. Please.”

Luther looked conflicted, seeming to want to comfort Alison but also wanting to carry out his duty. For a split second, Klaus had the wild thought that he would be dropped to the floor, discarded, as Luther scooped Allison up and they walked away together into the sunset.

But, no. Luther’s “Number One” complex overruled that, and the command from daddy dearest needed to be fulfilled first.

Klaus followed behind Luther as the teen headed for the stairs to where Mom’s charging station would be. Allison stayed where she was, not moving from where she had rooted herself in the main hall.

Mom was as beautiful as ever, and she clicked on as Luther neared. “Hello, Luther dear,” she smiled. The smile dropped the slightest bit when she saw Klaus in the boy’s arms. “Oh my. It seems as though Klaus isn’t feeling well.”

Grace had never been “mom”. Not in the way it had been for Diego. Grace was just . . . there. The one who patched them up and patted their heads and gave them food. Told them she loved them. But she wasn’t  _ human _ . She wasn’t able to go against Reginald’s commands.

She had always looked the other way when Klaus was dragged to the mausoleum.

Yet, watching her now as she went through all her protocols, attempting to find any traces of life, Klaus wanted to cry. She didn’t understand.  _ She didn’t understand _ .

Grace blinked, several times, trying to figure out what was wrong as her hands moved over Klaus’s body. “No heartbeat. No brain activity. Blood flow stopped. No breath.” She tilted her head, glancing up at Luther with a question in her eyes. “Should we take him to the infirmary?”

Any hope that Luther had that Klaus was still alive vanished in that moment. Klaus saw the spark fizz out and disappear, and the urge to cry grew in Klaus.

“I don’t understand. Should we take him to the infirmary?” Grace repeated. Luther shook his head, mouth pursed into a thin line.

“He’s dead, mom,” Luther said, voice shaking. “He’s gone.”

Grace blinked a few more times. “Dead?”

Luther nodded. “Yeah. Dad told me to bring him to you, and that you’ll know what to do with . . . with his body.”

Grace just stood there, frozen in place. Her smile was gone, now. Klaus could practically see the gears turning. She looked back down at his body, hands coming up to cup Klaus’s cheeks.

If he didn’t know better, he would think Grace might start to cry.

As it was, the robot woman straightened and gave Luther a bright, plastic smile. “Of course. Come with me. We will get him prepared.”

She walked them down the hall and past the infirmary, Diego inside holding to Ben’s hand tightly. Klaus bit his lip. Maybe Diego could help Ben calm down after missions?

Would Diego be able to handle the gore?

Grace stepped into a room at the end of a long hallway, and Luther dutifully followed. Klaus looked in on Diego and Ben for a moment longer. He walked in behind Luther.

“Place him here, dear,” Grace patted the cold, bare metal table in the center of the room. Unlike the infirmary, this place reeked of death and horror. Klaus shivered as ghosts lined the walls of the room, pale faces staring absently at the table.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want his body to be here.

Luther placed Klaus’s body gently onto the metal table, eyes vacant and shoulders heavy despite his burden now gone from his arms. Klaus fidgeted as the ghosts drew closer at the new victim of the table.

He didn’t want to know what usually happened in this room. 

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get to work readying the body for burial.”

Luther choked on a sob, but nodded and went to leave the room. The ghosts crowded closer, some of them locking eyes with Klaus and hungry smiles dancing around the room.

“Luther, wait for me!” Klaus skittered away from yawning wounds and broken fingers as he ran after his brother. He was lucky he got out before the door closed . . . not that it would have mattered, but ghosts (including him now) were less likely to move through a solid object if they don’t need to.

He had no idea what it felt like and he wasn’t quite ready to try it out. Sue him, he just died.

Luther let out a heavy, world-weary sigh and Klaus tiptoed closer to him so he could (get further away from the ghosts) understand what was going through Number One’s mind.

Luther’s face was a blank mask, and Klaus frowned at it. Usually, his brother looked like a commander, or a kicked puppy, or both (which was weird, but he was used to it). Neither on his face was . . . an odd sight, to say the least. Klaus wasn’t sure what to make of it.

His jaw tightened, eyes slipping closed for a moment, and he straightened himself out to his full height. His blue eyes blinked and he was back to being a commander, back to being Number One.

Klaus wasn’t sure why, but he felt a little piece of himself wither at that.


	2. Death is Something of a Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben wakes. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! The responses for the first chapter were amazing! Thank you to all who commented and left kudos! Even got some bookmarks in there! I feel so loved you guys <3  
> I'm done with exams! So I'm now free for like a month lol. Yay! Time to catch up on all my projects hahaha  
> Warnings: Well, Ben killed Klaus. That's gonna have a strong reaction. Thoughts of suicide.  
> Be careful, babes <3

Awareness came to Ben slowly, as though he were swimming through molasses. His head was full of cotton and his limbs were all stiff and uncomfortable. He groaned and tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

"Yeah, the infirmary beds have never been nice," Klaus's voice piped up from somewhere in the room. Ben rolled his neck towards the sound, eyes remaining closed. "Wish they would revamp everything in here. Maybe get some glitter sheets!"

Ben groaned again, but this time out of annoyance. His cotton head started to pound. Couldn't Klaus shut up for five seconds?

"Hmm, no, you're right. Maybe redecorate the walls? At least let in some more natural light, make the place less depressing."

Apparently not. Ben rolled over and buried his face in the (not very comfortable) pillow beneath his head. It was blissfully silent for all of a couple of seconds. Then Klaus's annoying voice pierced through his skull again.

"I think the others will be here soon. They were really worried about you, Benny."

"Klaus," he mumbled into the pillow, aching head pulsing in time with his heart. "Please. My head hurts. Can you just . . ." He waved a hand.

Klaus went silent again, and Ben let out a relieved sigh. He was just about to fall back asleep again--maybe he could stay awake long enough to ask Grace for some pain killers?--until Klaus's voice rang out once more.

"Ben? Can you . . . hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you, idiot," Ben grumbled, finally lifting his head from the pillow to glare at where he assumed Klaus was. "You're not being very . . ."

The sight in front of him made him gasp and shoot up from the gurney. He swayed for only a moment, vision spotty, and righted himself. "Klaus!"

Klaus was . . . well, not looking great. Looking  _ horrible _ , really. His arm looked broken, the mangled limb twisted awkwardly at his shoulder and bone poking out at the elbow. Wounds were scattered across his chest like something from Ben's nightmares. Deep holes that penetrated through his brother's body, possibly even out the other side. They bled sluggishly, leaking and oozing and . . . Ben gagged and would have thrown up had he not wanted to know  _ what the hell happened right now _ .

"Klaus! What--?"

Klaus stared, dumbstruck and in awe. "B-Ben . . .?"

"Has Mom seen you yet? Klaus, you look  _ awful _ . Like--Like--!"

Like one step away from death, really.

"Why aren't you sitting down here! Or getting patched up? You're bleeding!" Ben scrambled out of the gurney and reached forward to drag Klaus towards it.

Before Klaus could step out of his reach, before Ben could possibly fathom what this  _ meant _ , his hand went through his brother's uninjured arm.

_ His hand went through his brother's arm _ .

Ben snatched his hand away as though he had been burned, a whimper escaping his lips. What? What was that?

"Klaus?"

His brother's gaze softened, sadness creeping in despite the smile he gave Ben. "I, uh . . ."

"Am I dead?" Ben asked. Because that was the only logical explanation, even if he had no idea what had happened.

Klaus saw ghosts. Ghosts aren't able to touch people. Therefore, Ben must be a ghost.

Didn't explain why Klaus looked like a pincushion, though.

The question caught Klaus off guard. His brother's eyes widened, mouth dropping open, and then he . . . laughed? 

It was Ben's turn to gape.

Klaus laughed and laughed, laughed so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks, until Klaus was full on sobbing. It terrified Ben, and he hovered his hand uselessly over his brother's shoulder.

"Klaus . . .?"

"I'm sorry, I should be relieved, but I just . . ." Klaus wiped at his eyes with his broken arm, and Ben flinched as the bones ground together. Klaus didn't seem bothered. "I wasn't expecting that. And with the day I had, well . . ."

He trailed off and didn't say more. Ben wasn't sure he needed to.

Swallowing thickly, Ben asked, "Klaus, am I dead?"

Because he  _ had _ to be. Because Klaus was in the infirmary to get his wounds fixed. Because Ben couldn't touch him. Surely,  _ surely _ , that meant that  _ he _ was dead.

Right?

Klaus finally raised his gaze from the floor, eyes locking with Ben again, expression pained, and Ben's heart fell. "Ben . . ."

The door to the infirmary opened and Luther came strolling in. As soon as he saw Ben, his face brightened and he smiled wide. "Ben! You're awake!"

Ben whimpered and whipped back to Klaus. Klaus, who looked . . . Klaus, who couldn't be touched. No way. But Luther saw Ben. Luther was happy Ben was awake.

Luther didn't say anything about Klaus.

"Klaus?"

Klaus let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped. "Yeah, Ben. I'm dead."

The room swayed under Ben's feet. One moment, he was upright, and the next Luther had rushed forward to catch him. Ben was limp in Luther's arms, energy just  _ gone _ . How? Why? How could this have happened?

"Wh-How can I--What?" Ben stumbled through at least three of his questions, thoughts swirling, yet the constant  _ Klaus is dead, Klaus is dead, Klaus is  _ dead, pounded in time with his head.

Lucky for him, Klaus knew what he meant, because Klaus was his best friend and knew  _ everything _ about him. And his best friend was  _ dead _ .

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure how you can see me either. Seems like some sort of wacky fluke, but I'm not complaining."

At the same time, Luther let out a sigh and said, "I'm sorry, Ben. Klaus . . . didn't make it."

It was confirmed. From someone else. This wasn't a dream, this wasn't even one of his messed up nightmares. This was  _ real _ . He pinched himself just to be sure, but nothing changed.

"How?" Ben turned to Luther, anger burning in his brown orbs. "How did he die? Was it one of the robbers? Did they shoot him?"

It certainly  _ looked _ like he had been shot at. Maybe with advanced guns, because the holes were way bigger than regular bullet wounds. But it could be that, right?

It couldn't be what he thought it was.  _ Please _ .

Klaus winced and ran a hand through bloody curls. "Well, ah, no . . . About that . . ."

"Do you not remember what happened?" Luther's brows came together worriedly.

No. Ben didn't remember a thing. He just remembered going into a giant room to let the Horror out.

_ Please, don't tell me what I think it is _ .

At Ben’s blank stare, Luther sighed and helped him back to his feet, leading him towards the bed. “You’ll want to sit down for this.”

_ No. No, no, no. _

“Just tell me, Luther,” Ben growled, stepping out of Luther’s guiding hand and turning to face him head on. “What happened?”

Luther looked conflicted, shifting from foot to foot. “I really think you should--”

“Luther!” Ben started to shake, eyes stinging. “What happened to Klaus? Did . . . Did I kill Klaus? Please . . .” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, chest aching both from the pain in his heart and the rumbling of the Horror. “Please tell me.”

“Ben, no,” Klaus stepped around Luther, eyes pleading for Ben to listen. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

Ben ignored him, glare piercing into Luther with the ferocity of the sun. “Answer me!”

Luther flinched, but he slowly nodded like it pained him. “Yes. The Horror is what killed Klaus.”

Despite knowing the answer, despite  _ knowing _ that Klaus didn’t die because of bullets, it still tore Ben apart. A part of him died with Klaus, then. A part he had considered his last redeeming quality.

Now, he had nothing.

_ I killed my own brother. My best friend. _

A loud, keening sound filled the air, raw with pain and anguish, similar to what an animal might voice in its dying breath. Ben clutched at his chest, willing for the awful  _ pain _ that settled there to  _ go away _ . He couldn’t breathe, dammit. It was like the times when the Horror escaped on Their own and hurt him, but ten times worse.

They growled in his mind, but he couldn’t pick out what They were saying. It was all jumbled, mixed emotions warring for attention in his head.

Luther’s eyes widened, and he scrambled back from Ben.  _ Good. Get as far away as you can _ .

One, two, maybe three tentacles slipped out from under his clothes, waving about as though trying to rid the danger from Their host.

Silly Horror.  _ He _ was the danger. A danger to his whole family and everything he’s ever loved.

Luther fled the room.

Ben wished he had died instead. If the Horror had ripped him to shreds, at least it wouldn’t be as painful as _this._ _Take me, not Klaus._

Ben gasped, clawing at his hair, his eyes, his skin,  _ anything he could get his hands on _ . He wanted to rid himself from the earth. He wanted to  _ bleed _ and  _ hurt _ and  _ die _ , just like Klaus. He didn’t deserve to live, not when Klaus was dead.

_ Not when he had killed Klaus _ .

A horrible wail was knocked from his chest, and with it, the Horror fully erupted and reigned havoc in the real world. He didn’t care.

He hoped, maybe a little bit, that the Horror would turn on him and wipe him out, too, before he hurt anyone else.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ think like that!” Klaus’s voice shouted right next to his ear. Ben winced, eyes shifting to the ghost of his brother. Klaus, angry and distressed (he should be) reached out his hands as though to shake Ben, but he couldn’t. “I swear, if you put all my hard work to waste and join me on this side, I  _ will _ kill your sorry ass!”

Ben blinked, the sentence strange enough to make his mind stumble a bit. “Wha--Kill me? How do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll do it!” Klaus’s eyes became wild when Ben focused in on him. Ben had to force his gaze away from the bloody wounds (deep punctures, some tunnelling through the other side, from monstrous tentacles that Klaus couldn’t fight off--) and keep his eyes solely on Klaus’s face.

“Hard work?” Ben asked next, that part of the sentence sticking out to him. Klaus rolled his eyes and flung his hands in the air.

“Duh! Who else saved your bacon?”

“Saved . . .” Ben’s brows came together. “You saved me?”

Klaus nodded excitedly. “Yeah! I was all: Oh no, Ben! And rushed in to keep you from exploding like an overstuffed Thanksgiving turkey.”

Ben winced at the imagery that produced, but a small part of him was relieved at hearing Klaus’s usual oddness. He didn’t notice the Horror start to relax.

Klaus grinned. “I swooped in like a knight and saved the dragon, of course. Or however your fairytales end.” He flapped a hand. “Either way, I ran in there and maybe got maimed a little, but I saved your life! The Horror stopped, everyone’s alive and happy, wins all around.”

“Except for you,” Ben shuffled his feet, unsure if he should come closer to Klaus or not. Klaus made the decision for him, stepping up until he was right in his face. Ben just about fell back, but the gurney behind kept him in place. Klaus’s grin widened.

“But that’s fine, because I can talk to you still! I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to calm you down after . . .” he gestured to himself, and Ben had to hide a grimace. His smile smoothed into something warmer as he said, “I’m glad you can see me, Ben. And I don’t regret saving your life.”

“But you’re  _ dead _ ,” Ben whispered harshly, throat parched.

Klaus just shrugged. Like it wasn’t a big  _ deal _ . Like his life didn’t matter.

Warm tears dripped down salty cheeks.

“What matters is that  _ you _ aren’t,” Klaus hovered his good hand over Ben’s shoulder. It felt cool, and he shivered at the temperature change. “If you had died . . . the Academy would practically die with you, Benny. At least with me being dead, you all could function somewhat. Though,” he laughed disparagingly, “I’m sure everyone will miss my excellent humor.”

Ben’s lip wobbled. This damn  _ idiot _ . “Do you think that everyone won’t miss you?”

It was Klaus’s turn to blink. “Well, of course they’ll  _ miss _ me, like they’d miss their favorite toy or a lost puppy. But they’ll  _ move on _ . Probably forget about it by the end of the week.”

Ben was already shaking his head in denial before Klaus finished. He couldn’t stand this. “ _ No _ . That’s not true.”

Klaus’s eyes were soft and sad, and Ben wanted to hug the sadness out of his brother. “It’ll be okay, Ben.”

“No!” Ben rubbed at his face, smearing around snot and tears. “It’s  _ not _ okay, and it never will be! You’re  _ dead _ ! Do you know how that makes me feel? How Diego, or Allison, or  _ Vanya _ , feels? Luther? You’re our  _ brother _ , not a toy or a dog. You were . . .”

Klaus was so open and full of life. Kind. What would happen to everyone without him?

Ben’s resolve hardened. “You know what? You don’t believe me? Fine. I’ll ask the others what they think about this. They’ll tell me what they feel, and you’ll see.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Ben, you’re clearly in distress. They’ll tell you whatever you want to hear so you don’t lose it again.”

Pain and anger seared hot and heavy through his chest again, but he tamped it down. “Then at the funeral--”

But Klaus shook his head, eyes far away. “Reginald wanted it to be a public service. They’ll have to put on a show. Shouldn’t be too hard, since you are all naturals at it in the moment.”

“ _ Klaus _ ,” Ben breathed out, feeling betrayed. Klaus met his pleading gaze. “Do you . . . you know I love you. Right? For me, it’s not a show. It never, ever was.”

Klaus bit his lip, looking uncomfortable. The air was knocked from Ben’s lungs.

“Because I do,” Ben rushed to say. “I do, so much. And you dying because--because of me, it’s the worst thing in the world--”

“Well, I know you have nightmares about it--”

“No. No, I love you. I love you. I’ll repeat it as many times as I can until you get it through your  _ thick, stupid head _ !” Ben panted. “I love you, Klaus, and being the one who--who killed you . . .” he choked on the lump in his throat. “It’s so painful, Klaus. I don’t want to live with it. I--I don’t think I  _ can _ . . .”

Klaus’s eyes grew to saucers. He waved his hands in front of Ben’s face, frantically. “No, no! It’s okay. It’ll be okay!”

“Stop saying that!” Ben shouted. “It isn’t! It hurts so much, and you don’t even care! It’s not okay, it’s not!”

“Okay, alright, it’s not okay,” Klaus amended. “But it will be. It will be okay. I promise.”

Ben shook his head, to the point he got dizzy. “No. No. I’m so sorry, Klaus. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to hurt anyone else . . .”

He kept repeating himself, over and over again, apologizing and apologizing, but it wouldn’t be enough. He curled in on himself. The monster, the Horror, the demon of the Academy, finally doing what he had promised he would never do. What he had feared for years.

He couldn’t hear Klaus anymore over the sound of him telling him how sorry he was, how sorry he always will be. He would make it up to Klaus. He’d find a way to fix himself, or get rid of himself, or  _ something _ .

He couldn’t live with this.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around him, holding him down. Surprised at the contact, he lashed out, trying to shove whoever it was  _ away, far away, go away _ .

There was the sting of a needle. A calm voice shushing him. Fingers trailing through his hair.

Darkness swallowed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the ending isn't what I had planned, and certainly not what I wanted, but I think it turned out okay? Lemme know what ya'll think, cuz I might change it if the consensus is that it was iffy


	3. Guilt Debilitates If You Let It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus has a breakdown and meets a little girl on a bike. Ben checks out of reality for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Everyone has been so nice <3  
> I hope I can continue to write this well lol  
> Warnings: Ben dissociates heavily. Klaus has a breakdown.

As soon as Ben had woken up, he'd been able to hear and see Klaus. Klaus had no idea why, but he was ecstatic . . . at first.

He knew Ben would have a bad reaction to hurting him, but this? Klaus had been so terrified when Ben started to  _ hurt _ himself, scratching and pulling and biting on anything he could until he was  _ bleeding _ . The Horror had rightly been let out, but wasn't successful at doing much other than trashing the room.

Klaus had used tactics he'd used in the past, praying that perhaps he could calm his brother before he hurt himself so badly he couldn't come back from it. It broke his heart in two when Ben whispered that he'd rather it was him that had died, and not Klaus.

He had somehow broken through to Ben, most likely with familiar antics, and he allowed for his guard to go down. He thought he was calming Ben, that things were looking up. And then, well . . .

Klaus had no idea what happened. One minute, things were getting better, him and Ben were talking, Ben had told him he was loved (which, not only was a great surprise, but made him want to cry), and the next, Ben had completely shut down and collapsed in on himself. He just . . . stopped entirely. He kept saying he was sorry, didn’t hear a word Klaus said, and didn’t react when Klaus moved away from him. 

Klaus wondered if maybe the magic that allowed him to talk to Ben disappeared. Maybe that was a good thing.

He had never seen Ben react that way towards him. Ben was a gentle soul. Klaus could usually rely on his charm to win Ben over, to calm him down or rile him up. Klaus would never, in a million years, have seen this coming. 

It seemed as though his very presence distressed Ben. Klaus could do very little to make Ben listen, and even then, the other grew more and more distant the longer they talked.

It hurt when he came to that realization, way more than he thought it would.

Ben was falling through his grasp, like smoke through fingers. Like a ghost’s cold touch against a solid chest.

Maybe it would have been better if Klaus hadn’t been seen by Ben. The elation of being seen had twisted into stark horror at the reaction his brother had.

Klaus was grateful to Luther, who had fled the room and brought Grace in. The android had given Ben a sedative, Luther holding Ben tight to his chest when he had fought it. Now, Ben was curled up on the gurney once more, sleeping peacefully in a drugged haze, and Luther was sitting silent guard beside his bed. For the first time in a long while, Klaus was glad that Luther’s sense of duty outweighed his need to pursue wants.

With a sigh, Klaus moved away from Ben’s side and out into the hall, wondering what he should do next. Because, it was clear, he should not spend more time with Ben. At least, until he had gotten over his death . . . which might never happen.

Who knew that being loved hurt so much?

Klaus didn’t know how to take that. Ben loved him, a lot. He could see that, now, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. Ben loved him, and hurt himself because of him, and was distraught at his death. Ben shouldn’t feel that way. It made Klaus’s chest squeeze painfully for the damage he had caused his brother, when he had only wanted to help.

Screw up Number Four, back at it again, screwing things over for the only people he cared about.

A selfish part of him was so incredibly happy that his brother felt so strongly for him. It made him sick, and he hated himself all the more.

The further away from Ben he got, the better about himself he felt (that was a lie. He somehow felt worse and worse). Now that he was dead, he could do any number of things. He could stalk his siblings and bitch about their life choices without them getting upset with him. He could yell at Reginald and say all the things he wanted to since he was a kid. He could learn all the dirty little secrets of the Academy without reprimand. Theoretically, it was a dream come true.

Yet why did he want to break down and mourn for reasons he couldn’t place?

He didn’t know where he was going, but wandering aimlessly led him to the hallway that held their bedrooms. He stood there, at the end of it, staring blankly at the walls filled with pictures of children maiming each other, at the closed doors that held within equally closed off people, and wondered what would become of him now.

Would he be reduced to a screaming, emotionless shadow, that begged for a second chance at life? Would he lose his sanity slowly over time, or within the first couple of days of being ignored?

Would he care?

That terrified him the most. That, at some point, he would be so far gone that he didn’t notice anything anymore, that he just didn’t care that the world moved on without him.

He didn’t want this.

A shuddering gasp escaped him, and he realized that he was crying. Tears dripped from his eyes and onto the floor, mixing with the blood that steadily flowed from deadly wounds, but as soon as they hit the ground they vanished. He was non-existent, just as the tears he cried didn’t exist, just as the blood that dripped from his chest was merely an echo.

His hands scrabbled at his face, but he couldn’t get the waterworks to stop. He choked on them, drowning in the stream. His sobs grew, a part of him crying to be heard by somebody,  _ anybody _ . He couldn’t be alone like this. He couldn’t go on with the guilt that he had hurt his brother further by trying to save him, that he was nothing but air now, that no one could see him without being disgusted or traumatized. He couldn’t handle knowing that he’d lose the last of his already thin strands of sanity, that he would forget who he was and that it wouldn’t matter if he did because he  _ didn’t matter anymore _ .

His sobs turned to wails, and he fell to his knees, gripping at his hair and pulling at it. It didn’t hurt, and never would, and the curled strands remained attached to his head.

“Klaus . . .?” a soft voice startled him from his breakdown, and he whipped his head up to see Diego, standing frozen in the hallway, hand on his knives and face devoid of all color. His sobs stuttered to a halt, and his eyes widened.

“Dee?”

The sound of his childhood nickname from Klaus’s lips seemed to spook Diego, and the other jumped when he was addressed. His knives flashed from their casings and Klaus whimpered as they passed through his body and clanked across the floor.

Diego somehow paled further, reminiscent of when Ben freaked out, and Klaus startled at the sight. How was Diego seeing him? How could he hear him? How was this possible?

He wouldn’t let another brother freak out and hurt themselves because of him. He  _ wouldn’t _ .

Klaus just wanted this whole mess to  _ stop _ .

He faded from consciousness.

When he next blinked his eyes open, it was to a monochromatic world. Grey trees swayed to a non-existent breeze, and the dirt road beneath him stretched on for miles and miles with no end in sight. He gazed at the path unseeingly, worry clouding his thoughts.

Where was he? Wasn’t he just in the mansion?

The longer he looked around, the more a feeling of belonging grew. He should know this place, and know it  _ well _ . It was safe, welcome, warm. It was just on the tip of his tongue . . .

“What are you doing here?” someone asked behind him. He flipped around, coming face to face with a young girl on a bicycle, her large sunhat rustling in the breeze. She looked highly unimpressed with his appearance, perhaps even annoyed that he was standing on the path.

“I would like to know, too,” he said. “Mind telling me where I am?”

“Where do you  _ think _ ?” she sniped.

He gave a quick look around, that same feeling of belonging warm in his gut. He  _ knew _ , but he didn’t  _ know _ . “Well, I’m agnostic, so . . .”

The little girl let out a loud sigh. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He furrowed his brows. “Um, I’m pretty sure I am. I’m dead, right?”

“You are,” she confirmed. “That doesn’t mean I want you here.”

Klaus put a hand to his chest (which was clean of any wounds and dressed in the familiar mission uniform, sans mask), letting out a dramatic gasp. “Who could ever  _ not _ want me here?”

Her glare hardened. “Look, I don’t have time for you. Despite what you people down there think, I  _ do _ have duties that I need to achieve throughout the day.”

“Oh, well, then by all means, be on your merry way,” Klaus flapped a hand.

She rolled her eyes. “I  _ can’t _ , not until you leave.”

“Well, that seems rather inconvenient for you.”

“ _ It is _ .”

Klaus threw up his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it!”

“Go back,” she said bluntly. “Follow your brother around or something, I don’t care. You have that ability to make yourself appear to him, so do it. You can’t  _ stay here _ .”

“Why would I want to go back when . . .” he trailed off. “Hang on, ability? It’s my powers that allow me to be seen by them?”

She gave him a look of “well,  _ duh _ ”. “What did you think?”

“To be honest these last two days have been very confusing to me, so--”

“Go. Back.”

Klaus folded his arms. “What if I don’t want to?”

She frowned, then brought her hand up. With a snap of her fingers, his vision became blurry. “Don’t come back,” she said before he disappeared again.

Klaus “woke” once more in the hallway of their bedrooms, but this time he was alone. He was grateful for it, since it seemed he needed to figure out his powers even in death if he was going to stay visible or invisible to those around him.

Maybe he could stay with Ben after all, just an invisible spectator of his life. He could do that, right?

The only difference in the hallway is that it’s darker. It must be night. When he had left and gone . . . wherever it was he had gone, it was early morning. He wasted the whole day talking to the little annoying girl in the sky.

With a sigh, Klaus moved away from the hallway and towards the stairs, keeping an eye out for any of his siblings so he wasn’t accidentally spotted. He needed to figure out his visibility issue first.

He took the stairs three at a time, giddy that he didn’t have to worry about balance because he was a ghost and he could technically just float off the ground. He practically  _ flew _ down the stairs, and it was exhilarating.

What happened next, however, wasn’t.

“What do we do?” Vanya’s soft voice rang over the quiet of the house, loud despite its reserved nature.

“Well . . . Grace told us he would feel better soon . . .” Luther’s booming voice cut through the air and Klaus winced. Hopefully Reginald wouldn’t hear them and come to investigate. Couldn’t Luther learn to whisper?

Klaus followed the voices to the kitchen, his siblings dotting the room in various states of worry. Except for Ben. Ben . . . who was listlessly sitting at the table and barely breathing, eyes vacant and unmoving aside from blinking every now and then. A plate of crackers and cheese was put in front of him, but it looked completely untouched.

Something twisted in Klaus at the sight. What happened in the hours he was gone?

“He’s been like this for two days now!” Diego near shouted. Everyone in the room winced (Ben didn’t react at all). Diego growled and twisted a knife through his fingers. “K-Klaus’s funeral is over, and he’s still like this. I don’t think it’s gonna get better on it-it’s own.”

Wait, his funeral was over? Since when? Eyes widening, he shuffled closer to the door, begging internally for someone to give him the date. Just how long had he been gone?

“You don’t know that,” Luther countered.

“Look at him!” Diego threw a hand towards Ben, his brother still staring down at the table. “He has to practically be spoon fed everyday!”

“Guys,” Allison interrupted before things could get too heated. She seemed pained.

Vanya piped up again, shifting from one foot to the other. “What do you think caused him to be like this?”

“Well, obviously it’s because of what happened with Klaus,” Diego grunted. Klaus winced.

“Yeah, but . . .” Luther frowned. “Klaus is gone now, so he’s not in pain or anything. It was quick. And from what I could tell, he probably hadn’t felt much when he died.”

True. The Horror caught him in the heart first, so he didn’t even have enough time to feel pain before he was gone. He was only awake long enough to see the Horror retract.

“Do you even hear the words coming out or your mouth? What if you had been the one to accidentally hurt Klaus?” Allison asked, folding her arms disappointedly. Klaus was . . . not expecting that. Luther had told the truth. What was she upset about?

Luther flinched, however, and curled in on himself like a thoroughly reprimanded child. Klaus’s jaw dropped when he said, “You’re right . . . I just--I don’t know what to do to help.”

“Klaus,” Diego said. Klaus jumped a little, but his brother wasn’t looking his way, rather right at Ben. “Klaus would have been able to help. He never cared about the gore on Ben, and usually was the one to help him after missions. B-But he’s gone now . . .”

The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, and Klaus would have piped in with a quip or a dumb thought or something to break the tense atmosphere. As it was, he was silent, and his siblings became more agitated.

He fidgeted, wanting to say something, but that fear of rendering any of them the same as Ben kept his tongue. It was stifling, and he hated it, and the ghosts in the house could be heard clearly because of it, and he just . . .

He hated this. All of this. Were his siblings always so stiff around each other? So awkward? Maybe it was just the tension of Ben’s issue, but he wasn’t sure he could consider that to be the reason.

Maybe they were like this more often than he knew.

“Ben?” Vanya’s soft voice sliced through the air again, and Allison jumped at the sound. Vanya crouched next to Ben, tucking her hair behind her ear and reaching a hand out for their brother’s shoulder. Ben didn’t say a word, just breathed as he looked at the table. “Ben, can you hear me?”

“It’s no use, Vanya,” Diego grumbled, but Klaus could tell that even he had a bit of hope that maybe someone, anyone, could get through to their brother. “He’s not gonna hear you.”

Vanya blushed, embarrassed, and shuffled back from him. “’m sorry.”

Diego huffed and looked away, disappointment clear from where Klaus stood. Klaus groaned, wishing the idiot wouldn’t shoot down good ideas so quickly, the pessimist.

Ben twitched, the slightest bit, and the room lasered in on him.

“Ben?” Allison asked.

Nothing.

His siblings slouched and Diego cursed. “I can’t do this,” he stated, before marching out of the room. Klaus just barely had enough time to dodge out of sight as the other passed, the tense set of his shoulders telling Klaus that he was going to be punching or throwing something for the next while.

Allison let out a sigh and sat down next to Ben, trying to coax him to eat something. He allowed it, mostly because Allison had to practically shove it down his throat to get him to eat it.

“And the rumors don’t work?” Luther asked. Allison shook her head sadly, eyes glassy and lip wobbling.

“It’s like he can’t hear anything,” she said.

Vanya mumbled something too quiet to hear and she escaped the room as well. Luther bit his lip and shuffled until he was seated in front of Allison and Ben.

“What do we do, Luther?” Allison asked.

“I don’t know . . .”

“You have to talk to him more,” Klaus suggested quietly. “Just chatter at him. Maybe when he’s more coherent, hug him.”

One and Three didn’t react, but Ben’s head lifted the slightest bit.

“Klaus?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Klaus jumped.

Allison’s face twisted and tears fell. “Ben? Can you hear me?”

“Klaus?” Ben repeated, his eyes lifting from the table and lazily moving around the room. Luther and Allison looked absolutely heartbroken. To be honest, Klaus wasn’t much better.

“I’m here, Ben,” Klaus said, not bothering if the others heard. 

They didn’t. 

But Ben did.

Ben’s gaze whipped to him, and held him in an intense stare. Klaus gave him a small smile and a wave, and Ben’s shoulders relaxed.

“Klaus . . .”

“Ben,” Allison said, voice choked. “Klaus isn’t here anymore.”

“He’s here,” Ben whispered, smiling.

Luther and Allison shared a Look. Klaus came further into the room and stopped by Ben’s side.

“That’s right,” Klaus nodded. “And I won’t leave you again.” Not if Ben became like  _ this _ if he did.

“Promise?” Ben asked. He sounded so small. A lump formed in Klaus’s throat.

“Pinky swear it,” Klaus held up his pinky.

The tears rolled down Ben’s cheeks, but the smile he graced Klaus with was worth it.

_ Never again _ , Klaus vowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter felt kind of weird in some places. If it doesn't come across well, lemme know (cuz I'm a one man army and I don't catch everything lol)


	4. It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Klaus talk. Diego goes to breakfast drunk. Reginald comes to a conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEASON 2 WAS AMAZING!!  
> Now all I wanna write is brother and sister bonding lmao

Klaus followed Ben all the way up to his room, Allison and Luther supporting the smaller brother up the stairs. Ben kept an eye on Klaus, checking every few seconds to make sure that he was still there.

He was terrified to lose him again.

While it was one thing Klaus was dead, having him  _ not there at all _ was worse. It was selfish of Ben to ask Klaus to stay with him, but he couldn’t help it. He needed Klaus to stay, even if the guilt ate away at him daily for what he had done to his brother. Klaus couldn’t just  _ stay gone _ , not now that Ben realized that he could still talk to him.

When he had woken up and Klaus wasn’t there, he was terrified that he had finally scared the other away permanently. That he had damaged their relationship beyond repair. He couldn’t handle that again.

So, even if Klaus gave him funny looks every time his eyes drifted to him, even if somewhere down the line Klaus came to hate him for making him stay, he would still do it. He would still ask that of his brother.

He was a horrible person.

“You . . . You get some rest, now, Ben,” Allison whispered, hugging him tightly and pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “Call someone if you need anything.”

Ben flashed her a quick, tired smile. “Thanks, Allie,” his voice scratched from disuse, despite the water he had downed once he was coherent enough to do it himself.

And wasn’t that strange? He had been out of action for two days, according to his siblings. He didn’t remember any of it. He didn’t remember Klaus’s funeral. 

He felt bad that he couldn’t relay what happened back to Klaus.

A small tear escaped from Allison’s eye and she brushed it away rapidly. She nodded and just about ran for her room, Luther stumbling behind her.

“So, just you and me now, Benny,” Klaus said to his left. Ben glanced at him.

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but when Klaus came back, his wounds mysteriously vanished. It was good for Ben’s mental health, for sure. Klaus looked exactly as he had before the mission, just without the mask.

“Wish I could change out of these drab clothes,” Klaus whined, following Ben into his room. “I wanna wear Allison’s new skirt. I think it would look really nice on me, don’t you?”

“Klaus,” Ben bit his lip as his brother looked up from his mission uniform. Klaus tilted his head to the side.

“Yes, brother dear?”

“I . . . You know I didn’t mean to do it, right? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Klaus blinked and chuckled. “Of course, Ben. I seriously doubt you have a murderous bone in your body.”

Ben let out a sigh, something loosening in his chest. “Good, that’s . . . that’s good. Um, the Horror, too. They didn’t mean it.”

Now Klaus seemed confused. His brows came together and his lip puckered. “What do you mean?” He let out a dramatic gasp. “Benny! Can you talk to the tentacle monster in your stomach? Tell them I said hi!” He waved at Ben’s stomach.

“Klaus, please be serious.”

“Can’t. Pretty sure it isn’t in my nature.”

“You’re deflecting again.”

“Why do you have to be such a spoilsport?” he whined. Ben sighed and sat down on his bed, hoping Klaus could actually  _ listen _ to him for once.

“What I’m trying to say is that me and the Horror regret what we did. We’re . . . we’re really sorry, Klaus.”

“Hey,” Klaus said, voice soft. The tone was enough to startle Ben into flicking up from his hands into Klaus’s hazel gaze. Klaus smiled, a little sad, but warm. “It’s okay. I’m not upset by it. I’m just so glad you’re okay, that you’re safe.”

Ben’s eyes stung. “But  _ why _ ? What about your safety?”

“Well, there’s no safer state than being a ghost,” Klaus shrugged. “If anything, you saved me from a life of bad decisions that would probably lead to death by overdosing in a seedy alley.”

He cracked a grin at that. “Yeah, that’s true.” The grin faltered. “But you still died a horrible death.”

Klaus shrugged again. “Eh, I didn’t even feel it. If anything, I think it mostly served to spook everyone.”

“Spook every--” Ben huffed and rolled his eyes. “It did much more than  _ that _ .”

His brother pursed his lips and looked away. “Yeah. Spooked.” He didn’t go into more detail, but Ben could see the stress lines in his posture. Klaus fidgeted with his uniform buckles. His eyes seemed . . . haunted.

Ben swallowed and shifted on the bed so there was plenty of space for Klaus to sit next to him. “Will you stay?” he asked.

“Stay?” Klaus tilted his head. “I promised I wouldn’t ever leave you again.”

Ben blushed, embarrassed at his weak plea from before. “I-I meant while I slept . . .”

Klaus blinked a few times, shocked at the request. He didn’t hesitate another moment and crawled onto the bed beside Ben. Ben’s form slumped in relief, and he tugged the blanket closer to him, intending on staying awake as long as possible and just . . .  _ watch _ Klaus.

Which wasn’t creepy at all. No sir.

Klaus stared right back, confusedly amused. “Everything alright, Ben?”

Ben nodded, resting his cheek against his knee. “I’m just . . . really happy that you’re here.”

“Me too,” Klaus grinned. “Now I get to watch everyone do stupid stuff and laugh in their faces about it.”

Ben snorted. “No more pranks, though. Lucky us.”

Klaus pressed a hand to his chest, “You didn’t like my pranks? Inconceivable.”

“Do you even know what that word means?”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “But, hey, now I have  _ you _ to do all my good works. Preferably starting with Luther, because the big oaf needs his ego knocked down a bit.”

They chuckled under their breaths, a comfortable atmosphere surrounding them. It felt warm and safe, and Ben found himself letting out a jaw-popping yawn.

“You should probably go to sleep,” Klaus suggested. “It’s late.”

Ben shook his head, his carefully gelled hair smacking himself in the face. When had it been gelled back? He couldn’t remember. In fact, he was still in a dark suit and everything.

“Was today the funeral?” Klaus asked quietly. His eyes were locked on Ben’s black tie.

“I . . . don’t actually remember,” Ben hugged his knees. “I think the only thing I processed was Diego holding me. He said something, too, but . . .” he frowned.

“Well, that makes sense,” Klaus said. “When I got here, you were a space cowboy.”

“Space cadet?”

“Whatever.” He flapped a hand. “Either way, you were gone to the world. The others mentioned this had been going on for days?”

Ben’s shoulders tensed and he looked down.

“Ben . . . what happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” Ben said. It was kind of the truth, but he didn’t want to dig into that right now. He suddenly realized how tired he was and flopped on his side, burying his face in his pillow.

“You can’t just shut me out, Ben,” Klaus’s voice said over his head. He didn’t look up. “Not now.”

“I’m tired,” Ben said. He burrowed under the blankets more fully, just about putting them over his head. 

There was a long, drawn out sigh, and Klaus said, “Goodnight, Ben.”

He didn’t answer back.

Come morning, Ben was groggy and out of sorts. He fumbled to the closet to pull out his uniform while Klaus chirped a friendly, “Good morning!” to him. He grunted back.

“Someone’s grumpy today,” Klaus pouted. “And here I thought we had such a  _ wonderful _ talk last night. Enough to have you sleeping of sugar plums or fairies. Or both.”

“Yeah, talking to my dead brother until an unholy hour of the morning definitely brought good dreams.” Ben shuffled in front of his mirror to make his hair look at least a  _ little _ presentable. The gel made a mess of it since he didn’t shower last night. “That and I slept in a suit.”

Klaus  _ tsked _ and sat on Ben’s desk. “Wow, cranky. Weren’t you supposed to be the silent type?”

“Shut up,” Ben huffed a small laugh. Klaus grinned.

“Seems like you’re feeling better already! So, what’s for breakfast? Waffles? Tacos?”

“Why would we have tacos for breakfast?”

He shrugged. “How should I know. As long as it isn’t that nasty oatmeal,  _ anything _ would be breakfast.”

“Well, tacos aren’t really a breakfast  _ thing _ ,” Ben said.

“I’d eat tacos for breakfast.”

“You’d eat a moldy bagel from a dumpster if you could.”

“Hey, food is food.”

Ben rolled his eyes fondly and stepped out of his room.

He was face to face with Diego’s raised fist.

“Wh-” Ben leaned back, staring into Diego’s face. The other boy (who’s features reminded Ben of the times Klaus came home really late at night) brightened considerably when he saw Ben.

“Ben!” Diego’s arms engulfed Ben in a sloppy hug, and Ben caught the distinct smell of alcohol on him.

“Diego’s  _ drunk _ ,” Klaus said, a bit too giddy about it. “When did this happen?” He gasped. “Did he raid my stash?”

“Diego?” Ben asked softly. “Are you okay?”

“I feel  _ greeeat _ ,” he hiccupped. “Had to finish the bottle, ya know? Couldn’t-Couldn’t let it go to w-waste.”

Diego slurred his words and hung off of Ben’s shoulders worse than Klaus ever had. How had Klaus been so graceful while drunk? Unless Diego was just a lightweight.

“What bottle?” Ben asked, glancing to Klaus. Klaus shrugged.

“I had a lot of bottles of alcohol in there. Could be any one of them.”

“The whis-whiskey,” Diego said. “Klaus’s favorite.”

Ben’s heart sunk. “Oh. Why did you drink it?”

“I didn’t w-want him to be l-l-lonely, you-you know?” Klaus looked surprised by Diego’s words. “Had to connect w-w-w-” he paused and took a breath. “Connect with him somehow.”

Klaus’s face twisted into something painful, and Ben gathered Diego more fully into his arms. “Oh Di . . .” Klaus whispered.

“I can get him downstairs,” Ben said. “Can you keep a lookout for anything that might make him stumble?”

“Yeah, of course,” Klaus nodded and took the lead. Ben helped Diego shuffle along, one of his brother’s arms thrown over his shoulder and his own arm around Diego’s waist. Klaus kept glancing to Diego’s face, something sad and hurt in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asked Klaus.

The nod was instant, and Ben saw right through the forced smile. “Of course, Benji! I’m just annoyed that Diego drank an entire bottle of my favorite whiskey.”

“Sure you are . . .” Ben hefted Diego further up on his shoulder. Diego groaned and his head fell against Ben’s. 

“I’m so g-glad you’re back, Ben,” he said. “You went faaaaar aw-away. Missed you.”

The tightness in Ben’s chest twisted. “I’m sorry I was gone.”

“Won’t go again?”

“I’ll try not to,” he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Wow . . . Guess we’re all making difficult promises today,” Klaus muttered. Ben shot him a Look. “What?”

Ben shook his head and focused on not tangling his feet with Diego’s. Klaus pouted, but he’d get over it.

They made it to the kitchen in time to see the rest standing beside their chairs. Vanya looked surprised at the pair they made, then brightened like the sun when his eyes locked with hers. She opened her mouth to say something, bit her lip, and looked down.

Ben deposited Diego at his chair, and he flopped into it before Reginald came in. Ben winced.

“What happened to him?” Allison whispered on the other side of Diego.

“He drank one of Klaus’s bottles of whiskey.”

The room collectively flinched at his brother’s name. Klaus, at his side, folded his arms and frowned deeply.

“What? Am I a taboo now?” he grumbled.

Three pairs of eyes flicked from Ben to the floor, awkwardly worried and not sure what to say. Ben tensed, hands curling at his sides.

“I’m not a glass vase,” he said. “I know I . . . had a bad couple of days--”

“You were catatonic,” Luther said, jaw tensed and lips pressed firmly together. “That’s not a ‘bad couple of days’, Ben.”

Ben shrunk in on himself, anger depleting from the harsh delivery of the words. He didn’t  _ mean _ to . . .

“It’s okay, Ben,” Vanya said quietly. “We were just really worried, is all . . .”

“We still are,” Allison said. “Ben, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah,” he furrowed his brows. “Look, I know it was bad. It was really bad, but . . . I’m better now.”

“And Klaus?” Luther asked, still standing tall. 

“I . . .” Ben tilted his head, glancing to Klaus in the corner. His brother shrugged-- _ Real help you are _ . “Fine?”

“No, we meant--”

Reginald entered the room, and Ben scrambled to his seat. Their father glared at Diego as he passed, the boy still pretty out of it. 

When he reached the head of the table, he looked at those gathered and gave a sharp nod. “Sit.”

They did. Everyone was silent, as they had been raised to be. They waited for the command to eat, then silently took their utensils and ate the disgusting oatmeal.

The only sound heard was the scraping of metal against ceramic, but the Horror rumbled at the back of his mind. He shoved it down forcefully.

“Oh, I just realized that I don’t have to be quiet during mealtimes anymore,” Klaus spoke up behind their father, giddiness causing his limbs to shake. Ben startled at the sound, and Reginald’s eyes flicked to him.

“Is something wrong, Number Six?”

“Oh, ah, no sir.”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Klaus marched around Reginald’s chair and Ben glared at him. “You’re a  _ rat bastard _ and you treated us like garbage! You’re the reason Five ran off, and I bet you’re the reason I’m dead!”

“Klaus,” Ben hissed, trying to get him to stop.

“Number Six,” Reginald frowned. “No speaking.”

Ben blushed and looked back down at his oatmeal.

“Oh  _ look _ ,” Klaus spat. “Trying to be all high and mighty with us. When really, you’re a weak old man! Anyone in this room could kill you with a thought. Hell, if I can find a way, so could I! And yet you sit up here like you’re the next best thing after sliced cheese.”

“Shut up,” Ben whispered.

“Excuse me?” Reginald put his spoon down.

“Not you, sir.”

“Why did you even take us, huh? To  _ save the world _ ? Well, guess what,” Klaus let out a bitter laugh. “I’m dead! Five’s missing, Vanya doesn’t even  _ have _ powers, and everyone else is one step away from a psychotic break! I mean, just look at Diego.”

Diego fell into his bowl of oatmeal, snoring.

“All of this, and for what? The only one who still follows your orders to a ‘T’ is your precious Number One. I’m sure, if it wasn’t for me, Ben would be the dead one, and you’d lose someone actually  _ important _ .”

“Klaus--”

“That is enough, Number Six,” Reginald stood from his chair, and Ben had never felt so small. “Grace, take Number Two to his room. I’ll deal with him later.”

Grace did as she was told and soon it was just Ben, his remaining siblings, Reginald, and Klaus, who bit at his nails.

“Okay, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Klaus said around his fingers. “I mean talking at the table isn’t a huge deal, though, so--”

“Klaus, will you please  _ stop talking _ ?” Ben growled.

“Right, yeah, can do.”

Reginald glanced to the spot Ben had been staring at, at Klaus, and he hummed. Ben drew his attention around the room, asking for help from anyone.

No one was looking his way, but he caught Allison brushing a tear from her face.

“Number Six. Follow me to my office.”

Reginald marched from the room, and Ben was quick to follow. He caught the worried glances of his siblings as he left.

Anxiety swirled in his gut about what kind of punishments would come his way, and subsequently the Horror writhed around because of it. He placed a hand on his stomach, wanting to calm Them down but unsure if he even could.

“Ben?” Klaus hovered at his side, and Ben saw him from the corner of his eye as the ghost bit his lip. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Dad would never do anything to hurt you. He doesn’t  _ love _ us, but he needs us. He’s said so like a bajillion times.”

Ben nodded along, some of the anxiety abating . . . but not by much. Klaus could tell, because Klaus knew everything about Ben.

“It can’t be worse than being locked away, right? And he wouldn’t do that, because you’re his star player.”

But was he though? He killed one of Reginald’s test subjects (because that’s what they were, weren’t they). If anything, that gave Reginald all the more reason to lock Ben up and throw away the key.

His throat tightened as the doors to Reginald’s office came into view.

“Hey, no, look at me,” Klaus commanded. Ben did. “You’re gonna be just fine. You hear me? I’ll kick Reginald’s ass if he tries anything.”

Ben huffed. As funny as that would be, Klaus couldn’t do anything. The sentiment was nice, though, and it sent warmth trickling through his chest.

Their father opened the doors with a flourish. Ben scurried in after him, and the doors slammed shut.

“Sit,” Reginald commanded, and Ben sat immediately in the chair in front of Reginald’s desk. Reginald took his place at the desk and steepled his fingers. Ben began to sweat.

“You got this, Ben,” Klaus whispered.

Ben gave a small nod.

“Number Six,” Reginald began. Ben straightened. “You know that I do not tolerate speaking at the table.”

“Yes sir.”

“So then, tell me, why is it that you were speaking to Number Four?”

Ben’s breath caught and he whipped to Klaus for help. Klaus was just as shocked, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, face whiter than a sheet. Reginald’s eyes followed his movement.

“Can you see him?” Reginald asked. “Is he here in this room now?”

Ben whirled back around and shook his head frantically. “No. No sir.”

Klaus let out a strangled sound and he flickered. Ben gripped the chair until his knuckles went white.

Reginald leaned forward, and Ben coward back. “You  _ can _ see him. How?”

“I--”

“Ben, please, don’t tell him,” Klaus pleaded.

“He already knows,” Ben whispered. Louder, he said, “I don’t know, sir.”

Reginald flipped open that  _ stupid _ journal that he was always writing in and jotted down notes. “When did this first begin.”

“When I woke up after the mission.”

“Ben,” Klaus flickered heavily and Ben’s mouth shut with a click.

“You can speak with him and see him,” Reginald grinned. “Perhaps there really is more to Number Four than I had originally assumed.”

Klaus whimpered.

“Sir?” Ben asked.

“Is there a way for him to show himself to me?” Reginald asked.

Ben glanced to Klaus, who shook his head desperately. Ben shook his head. Reginald frowned.

“Number Six,” Reginald stood and walked around the desk to loom before Ben. “You will ask Number Four to show himself to me. Otherwise . . .”

He let the threat hang in the air, and Ben blanched. “Klaus . . .?”

Klaus shook his head, but he didn’t back away. He didn’t move.

“Klaus please . . .”

“I don’t know how anyway,” Klaus said. “I don’t know how to show myself. You’ve been the only one to see me.”

“He doesn’t know how,” Ben stated firmly. “I’ve been the only one to see him.”

Reginald looked thoughtful for a moment, considering Ben’s words. “The only one, you say. And what about when you were in a dissociative state?”

Ben winced. “He was gone. I couldn’t find him and I . . . couldn’t handle that I couldn’t see him.”

“I see,” Reginald hummed and wrote something else in the journal. “And when you emerged from it?”

“He came back,” Ben said. “And he didn’t look . . .” he stopped there, unsure if he should share that. 

“Go on,” Reginald urged, and Ben sunk lower in the chair. At his side, Klaus remained silent. He was on his own.

“He was fine. I mean, he didn’t look how he died. He looked like he did before he left for the mission.”

“Interesting,” Reginald wrote down more notes. “And the mission. Did you see him before he died?”

“I . . . what?” Ben tilted his head, not sure what to say. Klaus’s brows came together.

“I mean, you did, but you can’t possibly remember it,” Klaus said. “You were out of control and in a lot of pain.”

Ben repeated back what Klaus had told him, and Reginald frowned.

“I see,” he closed the journal with a  _ snap _ and sat back down in his chair. With a sigh, he said, “Number Six, I’m afraid to tell you, but I believe this image that you have brought forth is a hallucination.”

Ben blinked, and Klaus made a sound of offense. “Excuse me?”

“Guilt can be a heavy thing to bear. I believe that you conjured an image of your brother where he is still living to relieve the pain of having been the one to kill him.”

He flinched bodily at the reminder. “Stop.”

“I will inform the others so they can act accordingly--”

“I’m not some-some  _ invalid _ \--”

“Number Six!” Reginald slammed his fist on the desk. Ben shrunk in on himself. “You will not interrupt me! Now, as difficult as it may be to hear, this is for your own good. If you cannot rid yourself of this foolish hallucination--”

“I’m not a hallucination!”

“--then we will move to more extreme measures,” Reginald finished. Ben’s jaw dropped.

“But he’s . . . he’s really here,” Ben said. “I know he is.”

“What is your proof?”

“He told me he died before I found out from the others!” Ben said desperately. “He was alarmed that I was able to see him. He looked as he died--” he swallowed. “He’s here. I  _ know _ he’s here.”

Klaus’s eyes were wide by the time Ben was done, shock turning to awe. “You really believe me?”

“Of course I believe you,” Ben said.

His brother smiled warmly, like he couldn’t believe Ben would say something so nice. It made Ben’s heart ache.

“And that’s the issue,” Reginald placed his hands neatly in front of him, fingers knitted together. “You saw him when he died, though you couldn’t remember, and when you woke you saw him as he was when he died. During the time where you dissociated, your brain came up with a way for him to still be alive. It deluded itself in your grief, and the trauma from the incident solidified that.”

“Ben, please don’t listen to this--”

“Why should I believe you?” Ben asked Reginald, and Klaus’s teeth clicked. “How can you know that this isn’t actually Klaus?”

Reginald said nothing. He took off his monocle and wiped it clean, then pressed a button on the desk to call for Grace. “You will see a professional in time to help with this matter.”

“You don’t know if he’s real or not,” Ben stood abruptly. “You don’t know!”

“Number Six--”

“He’s here! He’s right here, I can see him and talk to him--”

“Number Six--!”

“I’m not crazy! I’m not!”

“Grace--”

Cold, metallic arms wrapped around Ben from behind, and he snarled and bucked to get her off. But she was a robot, not a human, and had no trouble holding on. The Horror slithered out from his stomach.

“Ben!”

“Everything will be just fine, darling,” Grace cooed as the cool prick of a needle slid into his skin.

“Get off of me!” Ben screamed, and the Horror growled as it flung itself towards Grace. She flew back into the wall and tentacles wrapped firmly around her form. She just continued to smile that pleasant smile.

“Ben, you need to calm down, please--!”

“Number Six!”

“My darling--”

“Shut up!” Ben shouted, hands shaking and vision blurring. The tranq was already kicking in. “S-Stop!”

He sunk to his knees, limbs feeling like jello and head swirling. He vaguely heard Klaus say something in his ear, but it was muffled and far away.

“This is for your own good, Six,” Reginald said, looming over him.

The world blackened around the edges of his vision, his last sight a disapproving frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt a tad rushed, despite the fact that it was the longest chapter in this story yet.


	5. The Brain is Elastic, So Don't Pull Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben wakes in a place he does not recognize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to the end of If Only It Were Me!! Yay! Rest assured, there will be more in the series, as this is only the beginning. Thanks for sticking with me!  
> (This chapter was unedited and it's late af where I am, so I'm gonna post this and come back later--)

Ben came to slowly, groggily. Someone was speaking to him, but it was muffled like his ears were underwater. He blinked, and harsh fluorescent lights blinded him. He winced.

The person speaking shifted in tone, the sound soothing. He wished he could understand what they were saying. He could use some comfort at the moment.

_ Safe _ . A voice echoed around in his skull, but he was surprised when it didn’t hurt.  _ We will keep you safe _ .

“Hello?” he rasped, and his throat felt like it was on fire. He coughed and tried again. “Hello?”

_ Safe _ . The voice repeated.

There was more muffled speaking.

“Is someone there?” he asked. “Please, can someone tell me what’s going on?”

He held a hand up to block the light, opening his eyes again and waiting for them to adjust. He was met with a bland, white room, no decorations, no furniture other than the bed he was on, and the door had a small window and no handle. His breath picked up.

There was more muffled speaking, and he looked to the side where it was coming from. The figure was blurred, resembling a shadow more than a human. He shivered.

Nothing else in the room blurred.

“K-Klaus?” he asked. He couldn’t find his brother anywhere. The muffled speaking grew more animated, and Ben hunched away from . . . whatever it was. “Klaus?” he called out, louder this time.

The speaking finally stopped. The shadow person flickered, but didn’t move. Ben was grateful.

What happened to his brother? What happened to  _ him _ ? Last thing he remembered was . . .

Right. Reginald called him crazy. He was sedated. Where was he now?

The door opened and a pristine looking doctor came in, clipboard in hand and the other stuffed in his pocket. He noticed there was something in said pocket, long and sharp at one end, and he could take a guess as to what it was. The doctor seemed typical enough, lab coat and short brown hair, and Ben could sense at least two more people outside the door. His eyes flicked back and forth between the exit and the doctor.

“Don’t think about running,” the doctor scowled, and Ben bit his lip. “You won’t make it past the door.”

“Where am I?” Ben asked, hostility rising in his throat.

_ Unsafe _ . The voices in his head whispered. He recognized them, now. The Horror.  _ Stay away from him _ .

Ben leaned back in the bed as the doctor came closer. “A hospital that can help you,” the man waved the clipboard in the air. “This is why you’re here.”

“What?”

“My name is Doctor Marshall. Your father brought you to us because he was concerned that you would hurt yourself and others in your grief of having lost your brother,” the doctor explained. 

Ben’s jaw clenched and before Marshall could go on, he said, “I’m not crazy.”

The man held up his hand, the other still deep in his pocket. “I never said you were.”

“Liar liar,” Klaus’s voice said from the corner. It sounded far away. Ben glanced his way, surprised that the blurred figure was beginning to take shape. Was . . . was that Klaus? What happened to him? “The file’s all about how you’re hallucinating and need drugs to stay sane or whatever.”

_ Klaus _ . The voices hummed at his brother’s voice.  _ Klaus _ .

He didn’t realize it, but his tensed muscles relaxed when he heard his brother. Even if something had happened to Klaus, he was still here, and they could figure it out.

“What are you looking at?” Marshall asked, drawing Ben’s attention back to him. The man raised a brow.

“I . . .” he frowned. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

Klaus snorted. Ben could vaguely make out his curls. “Ouchie.”

Ben threw him a look. Not now. He’d talk to him later. Klaus raised a brow (he thought he did anyway).

“Is your brother here now?” the doctor asked, and Ben startled. Marshall glanced to where Klaus was, but his eyes didn’t focus on him. They slid back to Ben, suspicion buried under false calm. Right. Reginald brought him here because he was “hallucinating”. 

“No,” Ben lied.

“It’s alright,” the man said, sitting down in a chair and resting a pen on the paper of his clipboard, the board balanced on his thigh. “I won’t call you crazy.”

“Yeah, well, whatever  _ dad _ told you, it’s a lie. Klaus has always been able to see and interact with the dead. Did Reginald tell you that? Is it so much of a stretch to say that he’s now, as a ghost, interacting with the living?”

“Go Benny!” Klaus cheered. He was starting to sound clearer.

“I suppose it does make sense, yes,” Marshall nodded and wrote something down. “So he’s currently coming to you as a ghost?”

Ben grit his teeth, but said, “Yes. But Reginald doesn’t believe me, because he wants Klaus to prove it. Klaus  _ can’t _ prove it. Not yet, I don’t think. He needs to work on it.” Klaus made a sound of agreement behind him.

The doctor hummed and wrote down more notes. Klaus moved from his position in the corner to get a good look at what the man was writing. He was much clearer, now, looking more like a faded photograph rather than a shapeless form.

Klaus’s eyes narrowed on what he read. “He doesn’t believe you either. He’s writing stuff down about hallucinations and schizophrenia. Auditory and visual. Grief counselling has been underlined three times.”

“You don’t believe me,” a surge of anger bubbled up in Ben’s chest. “You just want me to talk about it so you can report back to  _ him _ .”

Klaus piped in, “Paranoia and victim complex are now underlined. So rude!”

“I don’t have a victim complex!” Ben shouted, standing from the bed. Marshall followed, the hand in his pocket inching upward. Ben growled and the Horror rumbled in his chest.

Two men entered the room, dressed in security uniforms and holding tasers. The Horror roared at that, and two tentacles slipped out. Anxiety curled tight and heavy in Ben’s chest, and his blood turned to ice.

“Ben, I don’t mean you harm,” Marshall was trying to say. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help my  _ ass _ ,” Ben hissed, and he was startled when his voice came out layered and not entirely his own. Marshall’s eyes widened.

“Get the team here,” Marshall instructed. One security guard ran out the door while the other advanced.

“Klaus is here! I’m not crazy, and you people are here because of  _ him _ . I’m locked up here because of him!” The Horror lashed out, knocking the guard into the wall with a loud bang. Marshall scrambled back, the guard slumping down, hopefully only unconscious but Ben didn’t really care at the moment.

“Get Team Alpha in here now!” Marshall shouted. Ben growled, and the voices of the Horror joined him.

“Hey, Benny, while I’m all for a coup, I don’t think it’s a good idea to kill the innocents, hm?” Klaus’s voice filtered in through the panic and the anger. Ben paused, and the Horror flicked in Klaus’s direction.

“Hey there,” Klaus said to the tentacles that came closer to him. “You can calm down. I don’t think they’re here to hurt you and Ben.”

_ Hurt. Trying to hurt. Klaus. Stay back. _

“Klaus,” Ben murmured. “I can’t stay here. I don’t belong.”

“I know,” Klaus said softly. “I’m not saying you should. But, as much as the doctors are probably being paid a fortune to keep you here, they’re still  _ doctors _ , and doctors usually try to help people, right? So, we gotta convince them that I’m real, that you don’t belong here.”

Marshall was watching Ben from the door, the syringe he had hidden in his pocket out in the open now. He was waiting for the right moment to stab Ben with it, and he snarled at the man.

“Easy, Ben,” Klaus said. “We just gotta play nice, right? And then they’ll let us out and we can leave the mansion for good since Reginald obviously doesn’t want us there anymore.”

Ben wasn’t so sure it would work out like that. But what else could they do?

Before he could think on it more, Klaus yelped. “Ben, look out!”

Something stung Ben on the shoulder, and the Horror screeched and whipped out. Marshall was a distance away, though, and a man in a uniform (not security, who the  _ hell _ \--) was holding a  _ gun _ , of all things. Had they shot him? The Horror panicked and flung itself around the room.

Things became hazy like in Reginald’s office, and Ben struggled to stay awake. Klaus became fuzzy again, his voice growing muffled once more.

“Klaus . . .”

Over the next several weeks, any time Ben tried to escape or the Horror was released, men in military uniforms would burst into the room and shoot him or the Horror with an elephant tranquilizer. Klaus thought that the only reason Ben wasn’t  _ dead _ was because of the Horror.

“Carfentanil is deadly, man,” Klaus shook his head from where he was suspended over the bed, upside down. “It’s sometimes sold as heroin to dumb people. It can kill someone instantly on contact.”

“And they’re using it on me?” Ben clutched the sheets under him in tight fists. He would be sitting up. He would be pacing. He would be doing  _ anything _ . Alas, they had him strapped to the bed today and he couldn’t move. “Do they  _ want _ me dead?”

Klaus shrugged. “I don’t think so? But yeah, they had to have known it wouldn’t kill you . . . hopefully.”

“I bet dad knew and told them,” Ben sighed and thumped his head against his pillow a few times.

This wasn’t the first time they had strapped him down (the first time had been terrifying and he hated it and he wanted  _ out _ \--), but he still felt queasy when he didn’t have the option to move. If Klaus hadn’t been here the whole time, what were the doctors planning for when Ben  _ actually _ went insane?

“You want me to check if there’s anyone coming in soon?”

Ben nodded, and Klaus walked through the walls that Ben couldn’t escape from. He let out a sigh.

How long would dad keep him here? Should he just pretend that Klaus wasn’t real? What if . . . what if Klaus  _ wasn’t _ real?

_ June 24, 2006 _

_ It’s been several weeks since the discovery of the subject. I have kept him in the basement, observing up until now. There hasn’t been a hint of decay or rot, nor has there been a significant change since he was brought here. The holes have been completely mended, leaving behind faint scarring. _

_ I plan to test this further, see just what the subject is capable of healing from in this state. He has neither pulse, breath, nor brain activity, as stated previously, and it does not seem as though that will change soon. _

_ The subject has not moved, but I still elected to chain it down. Sending Number Six away to the mental institution will hopefully keep the subject in this stasis. I cannot control either of them now. _

_ Pogo, in a fit of ridiculous emotion, stated that my tests on the subject would be “disrespectful” or “horrifying”. I do not care what he thinks of this, as this is a huge leap in progress with the subject. _

_ Alas, I may have to remind Pogo of such, before he decides to try anything out of line. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Please comment below what you liked and didn't like. I'll try to respond best I can to any and all comments :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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